


All That Lies Behind

by Salomeia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clubbing, Consent, Humor, M/M, Romance, Trauma, post s3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1457215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salomeia/pseuds/Salomeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek goes clubbing and finds Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Lies Behind

Derek’s enjoying himself. It’s been too long. Now that Cora’s safe and sound in Oregon with their distant relatives and their pack, he’s finally free to go anywhere and do anything he wants and for the first time in almost a decade he doesn’t feel like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Of course he was happy to have Cora back, but he had been wallowing in his own misery for so long that he hadn’t even been genuinely happy that she was back. Instead he had felt empty. But their road trip had been good. They had bonded and she had got to know him again. He had started to feel whole again, or something like it at least. He knows he’s much different from what she remembers, but he also knows there’s very little left of the little girl he remembers. She’d had to grow up too fast. They all had. He hopes that being in Oregon with a stable pack, she’ll feel more at ease. And in any case, Cora knows she’ll always have a place with him.

But now. Now he’s all by himself and he can do whatever he wants and right now he wants to have some fun.

He looks up at the sign which says Ramhole in flashy letters.

Subtle.

He checks out the people waiting to get in. There are maybe 20 guys in the line. Not too bad, but it’s not like he’s gonna wait. No way.

He walks straight up to the bouncer who's standing at the door and grins a little, not saying anything. He knows what the looks like. 

The man gives him a once over, a corner of his mouth rising up. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

Derek hooks the thumb of his left hand in the front pocket of his low rise black jeans and straightens up a bit, knowing the hem of his tight, black tee will rise a little, showing his hip bones. He loves the rush of power he gets when the man’s eyes go glassy and trail down his body. He had forgotten how much he enjoys this. Being wanted and worshipped.

"Well," Derek drawls "I just wanna have some fun."

Before he even manages to finish the sentence, the bouncer has opened the rope.

"Thanks," he says smirking and walks inside.

He takes in the atmosphere as he walks in. It’s the same as it always is in a place like this, the scent of sweaty, horny human bodies overwhelming. He decides to go to the bar and look around first.

A cute, blond twentysomething guy smiles at him as he walks by. Derek smiles back, but doesn't stop. Too easy, and he’s not exactly what he’s looking for anyway.

Luckily there aren’t that many people at the bar, so he sits on a free stool and waits for his turn for a couple of minutes, before the bartender slides a beer in front of him.

"Here ya go," he says.

Derek rises his eyebrow, “I didn’t order this.”

"You’ve got an admirer. That guy over there." The bartender points to the good looking, older guy across the bar, who lifts his glass in salut as their eyes meet. Derek saluts him back and takes a sip. Yeah, that guy's not quite what he wants either.

Derek stands up a beer in hand and walks to the dance floor. He knows the people in Beacon Hills would be surprised that he can dance, but it’s something he had loved doing in NY. He had loved getting lost in dancing and the rhythym and not thinking about anything, just being there in the moment. It had been freeing. But then Laura had decided to go back home and everything had gone to shit. He hadn’t felt like he deserved something as easy as dancing and going to clubs after that. The guilt had come crashing back and doing something he enjoyed had felt almost like a betrayal.

He takes a long drink before setting the beer on a nearby table and lets the throbbing music take over. He lets a guy press himself against his back and slide a hand across his stomach, before Derek moves away. Lets another guy grind his body against his front and lick sweat from his neck and grab his ass as they dance. Even later, he winds his arms around some other guys neck and kisses him. He gets lost in the movement of the sweaty bodies, until something grabs his attention. A scent. Slowly he looks to the side of the dance floor as two guys are pressing against him from either side. It takes a little while for him to locate the distracting and familiar scent, but when he does a jolt goes through him. He stills at the the sight of Stiles, who stares at him, mouth open. Derek feels himself flush and for a second he wants to run away.

Instead he pushes away from the two guys and walks slowly to where Stiles is.

"Close your mouth," he says more irrately than he means to, and Stiles’ mouth closes with an audible snap.

"What the fuck, Derek?" The boy looks honestly flabbergasted as if he can’t belive his eyes.

It annoys Derek, doubly so, because he's getting tense again. All the loosness from dancing is quickly leaving his body. “What’re you doing here,” he scowls. “Aren’t you a little too young to be here?”

The boy sushes him and waves his hands around. “Derek! Shut up!”

Derek just stares at him, finally noticing what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much, and is that glitter? He tilts his head and lets his gaze trail down Stiles' lithe body. He’s not sure what expression he's wearing, but the boy crosses his hands over his naked chest and flushes, the red spreading from his face to his neck and lower. Fuck. 

"I’m—, I’m— uh," Stiles stutters at first and then visibly braces himself. "I’m here with the ladies from the Jungle."

"And they let you out looking like that?" Derek blurts out. "I thought they were really protective of you." He continues, trying to keep the ire out of his voice, because it’s not his place to..., to comment on people's state of dress, but he can’t seem to help himself. Stiles has no shirt on, his chest is covered in glitter, and he’s wearing the tightest purple jeans Derek has ever seen on anybody. Whoever let him out of the house looking like that should be arrested.

"This was an accident, okay!" Stiles points his chest huffily, "So, don’t go around judging people."

"An accident?" Derek says dryly.

"Yes! Some dude tripped and spilled his entire tray full of drinks on me, all right!"

"And the glitter?" Derek tries really hard not to sound judgemental and ever harder to not look. at. those. pants. Goddammit.

The boy shrugs, “Dunno, some guy..” and the rest is mumble. Derek thinks he hears something about rubbing, but he’s not sure. The only thing he's sure of is that his blood pressure is definitely rising.

"What?" He says and squints his eyes menacingly.

"What? Nothing. And stop squinting, it's making you look kinda crazy."

Derek’s starting to feel incredibly pissed off, which makes no sense. Except Stiles is ruining his happy place. Not that he’s ever telling anybody he’s calling a club called Ramhole his happy place.

"I didn’t hear what you were saying? Explain how you got glitter all over yourself." And now he notices that there are some on the ass of Stiles’ jeans too. Oh yeah, his blood pressure is definitely rising .

"There’s nothing to tell! You’re not the boss of me!" Stiles says, looking mulish.

"Stiles!" He practically growls, and hopes he's not showing any teeth. 

"Christ, calm down!" Stiles steps closer and grips his arm. "You’ll get us thrown out and me arrested! Can you imagine what my dad would say if he found me like this? I’d be grounded forever."

"Good!” Derek snaps, all the while knowing he's probably making a scene, and tries to get himself to calm down. Maybe he should try those breathing exercises Cora talked about? 

Stiles blinks at him, his mouth forming a perfect o, like he's ready to give someone a blowjob. God-fucking-dammit! Breathing exercies won't help here, he thinks grimly, so he slungs his arm over Stiles' shoulders, and forces him to move without making it look like he’s dragging him away. “We’re leaving,” he grits out. He’s had enough and also, he just saw some big, muscle pig throwing an appreciative look in Stiles’ direction. They’re so out of here.

"What, no!" Stiles almost shrieks and Derek grips him tighter and leans to whisper in his ear. "I’ll tell your dad if you don’t move."

"You wouldn’t!"

"Oh I fucking well would"

They both stare at each other in challenge, until Stiles snaps out, “Fine!” And they’re walking.

They manage to get to the door without an incident. Well, mostly. Derek growling at some hapless guy who had stepped in their way and made a lewd suggestion at both of them not counting.

Derek shoves Stiles in front of him as they reach the front door and presses his hand on his shoulder to direct him outside.

The bouncer smirks at him as they walk past him. “Got yourself a little treat, I see.” The back of Stiles’ neck turns bright red and Derek kind of wants to claw off the fucker’s face. He wraps his hand around Stiles’ forearm as soon as he’s able, ignoring the welcome back he hears the bouncer call out, and starts to practically drag Stiles to his car.

"Stop manhandling me!" Stiles’ finally snaps when they’re out of hearshot.

Derek lets go as if being shot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you did I?” He hadn’t meant to and feels terrible if he had. He knows he’s sometimes too rough with people.

"Stop looking like someone shot your puppy! Fuck! You didn’t hurt me all right." Stiles huffs. "But I can walk myself. And I have to text to Miss Daisy. If they don’t find me they’ll call the cops."

Derek had forgotten the drag queens. "Sure," he says subdued and watches as Stiles fishes his phone from his pocket. He doesn’t understand how he had succeeded in putting anything in his pocket, let alone a phone. And Stiles is shirtless. Good thing his car is nearby and he had left his leather jacket there. Stiles could borrow it.

Suddenly he’s blinded by a flash. “What the hell?” He says as dots cover his field of vision.

"Sorry, Daisy wanted proof I wasn’t being kidnapped by some unknown dangerous dude. Apparently getting kidnapped by a familiar dangerous dude makes all the difference."

Then they're at his car.

Once they’re sitting inside, Derek throws his jacket at Stiles’ head, which the boy refuses to wear, muttering something about being hot enough already. Resignely Derek throws it in the backseat, deciding not to comment. He starts the car.

"So. Want to tell me what you’re doing in L.A. And where’s your dad? Does he know you’re here?" He asks trying to sound reasonable, but apparently missing it by a mile, considering the indignant sniff he hears from Stiles.

"He knows I’m here. Scott and I are visiting his dad."

Derek stays quiet, waiting until Stiles gives in.

"Agent Ass had to work tonight and Scott went to see his cousins. I didn’t want to go with him and then I read from Facebook that Miss Daisy and others were coming to town. We made plans, okay."

"And?" Derek grunts.

"And nothing! I had been there for like a half an hour before I saw you, most of that in bathroom trying to clean myself from that sticky mess. The ladies were getting drinks.

"What about the glitter?"

"You still on that? God! Fine!" Derek could just feel Stiles rolling his eyes. "There was some drunken dude in the bathroom. He threw that stuff around and that’s it. I’m FINE, okay."

Derek wants to mutter that Stiles has that stuff on his ass, and now there’s glitter all over his car, but he's learned to choose his battles.

"Where you’re going?" Stiles finally asks.

"My place."

"Uh, why?" Stiles asks, before inhaling sharply. "You have your own place here?"

Derek looks at him quickly, frowning. "What’d you mean? I need a place to sleep."

"You’re not coming back? Stiles asks, sounding almost shocked .

Derek looks at him again, “I didn’t think you’d care.”

"Are you trying to be a dick? Stiles says, anger creeping in his voice. "You leave without saying anything to anybody. You don’t call, you barely text. There’s nothing and..." Stiles stops, breathes in slowly, before continuing. "Of course we care. We’re worried. I’ve been worried! And then I see you... I mean I wasn’t even sure it was you at first, even though I’ve always thought I’d recognize you anywhere. Well, and I did. It was you, grinding and dancing there like... Were you going to go home with them?" The question is apparently rhetoric as he doesn’t pause long enough for Derek to answer.

"It was like you were a stranger, but at least you looked happy. You were smiling, you know. I think I’ve seen you smile like twice." He sounds a little defeated by that, but still doesn’t let Derek say anything. "I guess I get it, if you want to stay here. You looked happy, and you were never happy in Beacon Hills." He's quiet for a second, before continuing in a small voice "It’s cool though. I’m happy you’re happy."

Derek glances at him, but Stiles's staring out of the window.

Derek drives to the parking lot and stops the car, before turning to face Stiles. “Hey,” he starts awkwardly, as Stiles is still not looking at him. “You got the wrong impression, See? That’s not an apartment building. It’ a motel.” He says, feeling stupid. "And I'm not... Uh. I'm... going to... come back."

Stiles turns to look at him and sighs. "Don't hurt yourself, dude. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get weird." And then huffs a small laugh. "I mean, weirder then I already am." 

"Sure," Derek says uncertainly, not sure sure how his easy night out ended up like this.

"Rude."

"I..." Derek starts, but Stiles interrupts him. "Wanna make out?"

Derek thinks he loses seconds as he stares at Stiles incredulously. "What?"

"I don't know Sour Wolf. You're kinda freaking me out!"

Derek blinks, "I'm freaking you out? And you think the best way to handle that is by kissing?"

"You keep staring at me and you sound all nice! It's scary! Actually, I want to revise my earlier statement. It's not me who's weird, it's you!"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Oh you sweet talker you."

Derek's just about done. "Shut up," he says, probably still too kindly as Stiles gives him a small smile that makes his whole stupid face glow. "You wanna make out or not?" He says, mostly to stop Stiles from looking so freaking fond.

Derek gets a small satisfaction out of Stiles' surprised yip, but before he can think of anything else, he has half naked Stiles almost on his lap, face only inches away from his and he's still sporting that stupid, cute smile.

"I do," Stiles breathes, before he slowly presses his mouth against Derek's.

They kiss carefully at first, Derek mostly trying not to lose control. To him Stiles has always smelled good, better than anybody else in Beacon Hills, but the taste of him is about to drive him absolutely wild. That is, until Stiles presses a tip of his tongue in Derek's mouth and that's it. That's all it takes. Derek loses his sense of time. He trails his mouth from Stiles' mouth to his neck. Scents the skin behind his ear, and then he returns to Stiles mouth again. His hands wander on his skin, finally finding their way on Stiles' ass and he can help but to grab that pert little bubble butt, which makes Stiles moan, and try to grind against him, but not succeeding very well.

"Hell," Stiles says, voice low. "I can't press against you in this position. Maybe we should move this show to the backseat?" 

Derek breathes through his nose and presses one final kiss on Stiles' lips and shakes his head. "We'd probably get arrested."

"Fine, your room then."

"I don't think we should." He says, feeling something like dread spreading in his belly.

"You don't wanna anymore?" Stiles says, his tone hurt.

Derek presses his forehead against Stiles and closes his eyes. "I want to, but. I don't think we should rush into anything." He's afraid Stiles is going to throw his behaviour in the club back in his face, and maybe he's right, maybe they should just do it, if Stiles wants. There's really no reason for him not to sleep with Stiles.. that had been his objective for the night anyway. His thoughts are going in million different directions all at once, when he feels Stiles' hand on his face and Derek opens his eyes.

"Hey, calm down." Stiles says, frowning. "It's fine. We don't have to do anything."

Derek thinks he probably sags a little against Stiles, and doesn't resist when Stiles wraps his arms around his shoulders, despite their difficult position.

They stay like that for a long time, until Stiles says. “My limbs are starting to turn numb, I’m gonna have to move, man.” Derek nods and Stiles sits back on his seat heavily. Then he takes a good look at Derek and lets out a chuckle.

Derek crosses his arms across his chest, feeling vaguely insulted. He had thought they had just shared a moment.

"Look at your face!" Stiles says, now grinning from ear to ear. Derek checks the mirror. And stares in horror. He thinks he lets out a horrified sound, because Stiles starts to laugh. Oh crap, he’s got glitter all over his face! His whole face is glittering! And his beard! Oh God, he’s gonna have to shave his beard! And then he’s laughing too. It’s the most ridiculous thing he’s seen in quite a while, made only funnier by all the glitter on Stiles' face, which he keeps spreading around and not realizing it. 

Tears stream down Stiles’ face as he tries to say something, but everytime he looks at Derek he starts to laugh again. Finally they’re both howling in laughter.

Then, little by little they calm down. Derek feels completely relaxed. 

“You feeling all right?” Stiles asks.

"Yeah," Derek says and touches Stiles’ wrist and strokes his pulse point slowly.

Stiles shivers before saying, “So I guess you didn't bring me here the have your wicked way with me?”

"I brought you here to clean up a bit before I'm taking you back to Scott's dad," Derek says dignifiedly and lets go of Stiles’ wrist. The boy grabs his hand and squeezes before letting go.

Derek grins at him and opens his door. “Let’s go.”

Stiles chuckles as he gets out of the car, and then says, "You know, there's glitter all over your upholstery."

Derek shurgs. "Yeah, I'll probably freak out about it in the morning." Or maybe not, he's feeling pretty good right now.

Stiles smirks at him and they walk in companionable silence to Derek's room.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn't too much all over the place.
> 
> Originally written after 3A.
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](http://salomeia.tumblr.com/), come and say hi!


End file.
